


They Deserve to Get Each Other

by sigh_no_more



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigh_no_more/pseuds/sigh_no_more
Summary: Jehan looked so miserable at getting Grantaire, the other Amis most infamous for being a difficult person to present shop for that Courfeyrac said, “If it makes you feel better, I got Enjolras.”Jehan let out a bark of laughter. “That does make me feel better.”“They're both impossible.”“They deserve to get each other .”Courfeyrac gasped. “They do deserve to get each other.”Courfeyrac and Jehan are either the best or worst Secret Santas, depending on who you ask.





	They Deserve to Get Each Other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PieceOfCait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieceOfCait/gifts).



> For PieceofCait who requested:
> 
> Courf gets Enjolras for secret santa. Jehan gets R. Hijinks ensues as the two decide to give the boys what they *really* want.

“Oh no.” Courfeyrac clicked refresh and waited for the email to reload. “Oh nooooo!”

He loved Enjolras. He really and truly loved Enjolras from the bottom of his heart. Enjolras was a great man, and more importantly, he was a good one. He was one of Courfeyrac’s best and oldest friends. Courfeyrac knew Enjolras better than he knew himself, which was why he could not _believe_ his horrible luck in being assigned to be Enjolras’s Secret Santa.

“Combeferre!” Courfeyrac burst into their living room.

“I’m not trading Secret Santas with you,” Combeferre said calmly, not even bothering to look up from his anatomy textbook.

“That's not even what I was going to ask!”

Combeferre snorted. “Really? So the fact that the email assigning us our Secret Santas went out earlier today has nothing to do with the wail of despair I just heard coming from you?”

“Of course not. And I don't wail. And for insinuating that I do you should do me a favor.”

Combeferre looked at him sternly. “For the past three years, whoever has gotten Enjolras for Secret Santa has come to me, begging me to trade, and I have. He's starting to get suspicious, and he's going to think his friends think he's difficult to shop for.”

“He _is_ difficult to shop for,” Courfeyrac hissed. Enjolras didn't care about scented candles or nice lotions. He preferred to get books from the library instead of buying them. The real problem was he didn't like anything that was overtly capitalistic. For him to enjoy something, it had to be locally made and sustainably sourced, and something sensible that he didn't already have. Oh, and their budget was $25.

When Combeferre looked unmoved, Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes. “Fine. I'll get him a present. I'll get him the best present he's ever gotten.”

Combeferre turned a page in his book. “Sounds good.”

 

As he was panic pacing through the college bookstore, Courfeyrac bumped quite literally into Jehan, who had an assortment of colored pencils in his arms.

“Oh no!” Jehan squeaked as the boxes fell to the ground.

Courfeyrac dropped down to help him pick them up. “Wow, new art project?”

“No, these are for Grantaire,” Jehan said.

“All of them? Jehan, there must be like $200 worth of colored pencils here!”

“I know,” Jehan said, sounding distressed. “But art supplies are the best bet for Grantaire because he always needs more, but I don't know what kind exactly he needs? I thought colored pencils are transportable, so he can bring them easily with him when he's wandering around the city, so maybe I'd get those, but $25 worth of colored pencils looked rather meager, and I want him to feel special.”

“He's going to feel self conscious if you go over budget.”

“I know.”

Jehan looked so miserable at getting one of the other Amis most infamous for being a difficult person to present shop for that Courfeyrac said, “If it makes you feel better, I got Enjolras.”

Jehan let out a bark of laughter. “That does make me feel better.”

“They're both impossible.”

“They deserve to get _each other_.”

Courfeyrac gasped. “They _do_ deserve to get each other.”

Jehan’s eyes widened. “You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?”

“If you're thinking that I'm thinking we set up our two friends who've had feelings for each other but are too knuckleheaded to do anything about it, and in the process, get them the best Christmas presents of their lives, and bring about world peace, you are indeed thinking correctly.”

For a horrible moment, Courfeyrac thought Jehan would be boring, like Combeferre, who always thought Enjolras and Grantaire should “figure things out for themselves” and always refused to help Courfeyrac with his schemes. But Jehan nodded.

“I'm in. Partly because I want our friends to be happy but also because Grantaire is impossible.”

 

_December 8_

The Polar Plunge had been planned months ago. Because for some reason, running into the freezing cold ocean was a great way to raise money for charity.

It was also a great way to set two unknowing parties up with each other, or so thought Courfeyrac.

“I mean, they're stripping down to their underwear anyway,” Courfeyrac said. “We just need to get them so they're in close proximity of each other, to remind them that they secretly want to rip each other's clothes off, but in a sexy way. Not in a charity way.”

“Pretty sure those are the same to Enjolras,” Jehan muttered.

“Perfect!” Courfeyrac said. Surely there was some kind of Pavlovian benefit to having Enjolras associate naked Grantaire with activism.

This would surely do the trick.

The Polar Plunge was simple: some of the Amis had volunteered to strip down to their underwater and race into the Atlantic Ocean. For this privilege, they had all agreed to pay an entry fee of $20.

Courfeyrac’s plan was also simple. Grantaire and Enjolras had already signed up. All Jehan and Courfeyrac had to do was get Enjolras and Grantaire to stand next to each other.

“Hey, Enj!” Courfeyrac waved him over.

 

Enjolras wasn't a huge fan of the Polar Plunge concept. There seemed to be a lot of other more efficient ways to raise money for charity, but his friends had seemed excited to try it, and who was he to discourage anyone from raising money?

But as he stood there in nothing but a fluffy bathrobe and his boxers, this seemed to be a terrible idea. Enjolras wished he had simply donated money instead of volunteering to participate. He didn't consider himself a vain person, but he didn't think it too self involved to be embarrassed by his slender body when he was surrounded by people like Bahorel who basically lived at the gym, or Feuilly, whose arms were buff from hours of welding and construction. Enjolras had a lithe runner's body, and felt positively scrawny in comparison.

“Hey Enj!” Courfeyrac was waving him over.

“Not a bad turnout,” Enjolras said.

“You needn't sound so begrudging,” Courfeyrac said, surveying the crowd proudly.

They had invited other student activist groups in the area to also participate, and there were quite a few of them who had come. With the participants paying to partake, and the spectators having the option to donate, they would probably walk away with a sizable amount of money to donate towards climate action. So Enjolras kept telling himself when he started feeling too humiliated at the thought of removing his robe.

“I'm going to get the rest of the group together before we start,” Courfeyrac said. “You stay here. Oh look, there's Grantaire!”

At the sound of his name, Grantaire started heading towards them. Enjolras felt another small wave of panic. He didn't want Grantaire, who already thought he was a fairly ridiculous person, to see him like this. But there was no hope for it. Courfeyrac gave them both a squeeze on the shoulder, then disappeared into the crowd.

Grantaire clearly didn't have the same insecurities as Enjolras. He was wearing a robe, but hadn't bothered shutting the front, revealing a pair of festive boxers, and an incredibly muscular torso.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Grantaire drawled, and Enjolras realized he'd been staring.

He tore his gaze away from where he been tracing one of Grantaire's tattoos. He knew before that Grantaire was covered in beautiful tattoos and was in good shape, but that hadn't prepared him for seeing Grantaire like this for the first time. He felt even more inadequate next to someone so absurdly attractive.

“Aren't you cold?” Enjolras said. It came out a little more harshly than he meant it to, but he was feeling more than a little embarrassed.

Grantaire shrugged. “I'm basically like a furnace.”

“I wonder where the others are.”

They stood in silence for another minute before they heard an announcement over the megaphones that they would start the plunge in thirty seconds.

Enjolras looked around frantically. He had no idea where the rest of their group was, and there was no sign of Courfeyrac anywhere.

Grantaire seemed to be thinking the same thing because he smirked and said. “Looks like it's just you and me, Chief.”

“Great.”

Grantaire was still smirking, and Enjolras realized this was probably because he was still bundled up. He always found the resolve to do something when someone was challenging him, and he felt the sudden urge to wipe that smirk off Grantaire's face. He quickly shucked off his robe and let it drop on the sand. He was rewarded when Grantaire’s eyes widened in shock as he took in Enjolras’s body. His feeling of smugness disappeared when Grantaire continued to stare at his scrawny torso, and was replaced with feeling self conscious.

The whistle sounded, and the plungers took off running towards the water. Grantaire was still gawking at Enjolras and tripped over absolutely nothing, falling face first into the water.

“Oh, shit!” Enjolras raced over to him, and pulled a sputtering Grantaire up. “Are you okay?”

Grantaire coughed up a huge mouthful of water. “Yeah, I'm good.”

Enjolras couldn't help but feel that if Grantaire were going to stare at his body and judge him for being so scrawny, he kind of deserved to fall into the water. “Okay, good.”

He let go of Grantaire. Grantaire could barely look at him. “Yeah, good. Well, uh…”

He all but fled to join the other plungers in the ocean, and get as far away from Enjolras as possible.

 

_December 12_

“Hey Enjolras,” Jehan sidled up to him, trying not to look too shady. “Can I interest you in some cake?”

Enjolras eyed the cake. He had a notorious sweet tooth that he was trying to get under control. But if caught in the right mood, he could be tempted.

“I don't know…”

Since exams were now over, Jehan didn't catch Enjolras at peak stress, but he and Courfeyrac thought they shouldn't mess with Enjolras too much when his academic future hung in the balance. Still, Jehan caught Enjolras in happy post-exam-pre-holiday-stress bubble.

“I made it from scratch.”

“Just a small slice then,” Enjolras said.

Jehan walked back over smugly to Courfeyrac. “See? This is going to work. We don't need them to see each other mostly naked.  We just need Enjolras to loosen up a little bit.”

“And how much weed did you put in the cake?”

“Not that much. If he just has a small slice, then he'll be fine. Pleasantly buzzed without being completely wasted.”

“Well then we have a problem,” Courfeyrac said. “Because Joly just gave Enjolras the rest of his massive slice, and Enjolras already ate most of it.”

“ _What?”_ Jehan whirled around. The blood drained from his face.

“So, let me ask again: how much weed did you put in the cake?”

“We're totally fucked,” Jehan said.

It didn't take long for Enjolras to start showing the effects of the cake. One minute, he was congratulating everyone on the Amis’ successful year, and then suddenly, he was staring off into space.

“Enj?” Combeferre said.

Enjolras turned his wide stare to Combeferre. “Combeferre have you always been so tall?”

Combeferre looked bewildered. “What?”

Enjolras reached out and cupped Combeferre’s face with both his hands. “You're so tall. You're like a mountain. Which makes sense because you are the rock of the Amis.”

“Oh no,” Courfeyrac muttered. Drunk Enjolras was always overly emotional with his friends. It looked like High Enjolras was the same, but amplified.

“Enjolras, are you okay?” Combeferre asked.

In response, Enjolras just buried his face in Combeferre's chest and murmured something that sounded like, “So thoughtful.”

With some difficulty, Combeferre shuffled himself and Enjolras back to their tables.

“Enj, how much have you had to drink?”

“I didn't drink anything,” Enjolras protested. “I just had some cake.”

Combeferre's head snapped around so he could find Courfeyrac and Jehan.

“Abort,” Courfeyrac whispered. “Aboooort.”

Jehan shook his head. “We're in too deep.”

 

Grantaire shook his head as he watched Courfeyrac and Jehan panic. They had definitely earned themselves a talking to from Combeferre later - he was very protective of Enjolras. Normally, he’d say that would be a bit of an overreaction. Any long standing member of the Amis would be a fool to accept baked foods from Jehan without first verifying it didn't have any special ingredients baked in, especially when it was in the festive post-exam-pre-holiday bubble when everyone was more liberal with their drugs and alcohol than usual. But in this particular instance, Grantaire was on Combeferre's side, mainly because he too was overprotective of Enjolras. He hoped the usually stern Enjolras wouldn't feel embarrassed by this outpouring of emotions the next day when he'd sobered up.

Still, he couldn't help but smile when Enjolras extricated himself from Combeferre and moved onto waxing poetical to Feuilly about his many virtues.

He was less amused when he saw Enjolras amble over towards him. Usually he was good at avoiding Drunk Enjolras because Enjolras was an infamous lightweight, and when he was on any kind of substance, had a tendency to blurt out whatever he was thinking. It was for both their sakes that Grantaire avoided Enjolras when he was like this- they were both the better for Enjolras not dropping any truth bombs on him. Enjolras was direct with Grantaire under normal circumstances, so Grantaire couldn't imagine what he would say with his inhibitions lowered. He didn't want to hear it, and he was fairly sure Enjolras wouldn't want to say it. Enjolras was tough, but he wasn't unnecessarily cruel.

Grantaire was as surprised as anyone when Enjolras plopped himself down on Grantaire’s lap with a smile.

“R! Grand R! How are you, mon Ami?”

“Uhhh….great?”

Enjolras boinged one of Grantaire’s unruly curls. “I like your hair.”

“Thanks?”

“It's so beautiful. Like you.”

Grantaire stiffened. Enjolras was usually unfailingly honest when he was on something. He wasn't usually sarcastic or mocking.

“That's not funny,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras looked at him, wide eyed. “I'm not trying to be funny. You're a very beautiful person.”

Grantaire felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach. He knew that he was no looker, and had made peace with that fact. But it still stung that someone as glorious as Enjolras would mock him for it. He tried not to hold it against Enjolras, since he wasn't in full control of what he was saying.

“--beautiful inside and out,” Enjolras was saying, absentmindedly playing with Grantaire’s hair. “And hot. Really, really hot.”

It hurt because Grantaire dreamed of Enjolras saying these things to him. To have Enjolras say these things, and know it was just the weed talking really fucking hurt. After another few minutes of Enjolras honest to God _cuddling_ Grantaire like a fucking koala, Grantaire managed to flag down Combeferre, who had been having what looked to be a very deep conversation with Jehan and Courfeyrac.

Combeferre took one look at them, then hurried over. He thanked Grantaire for looking after Enjolras.

“Let's get you home,” he said.

“Noooo,” Enjolras said, burrowing his face against Grantaire’s neck. “I want to stay with Grantaire. He's so comfy.”

“You should go with Combeferre,” Grantaire told him. Otherwise, he might just die on the spot.

Enjolras pouted. Grantaire didn't know whether he should be thankful he could see Enjolras being his adorable, or curse his luck.

“Please?” he added for good measure.

It took another minute of combined coaxing from him and Combeferre to get Enjolras to reluctantly agree to leave, and during that minute, he kept squirming around Grantaire’s lap, and so this was definitely going to be the death of him.

“Bye, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, planting a kiss on his cheek before Combeferre managed to haul him away.

Grantaire rubbed the spot where Enjolras's lips touched his skin. Yup. Absolutely going to be the death of him.

 

_December 21_

It was a tradition for the Amis to marathon terrible Christmas movies. On the last weekend before everyone dispersed for break, they would all crowd into Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta’s tiny living room, and watch cheesy Christmas movies. Courfeyrac was especially excited for the influx of Netflix holiday movies to add to their queue.

“Okay, so if Plan A doesn't work, then we have Plan B,” Courfeyrac said.

“Plan A will work,” Jehan said with entirely too much confidence, given their recent track record.

“If it doesn't--”

“ _If_ it doesn't, then yes, we move on to plan B.”

 

When Grantaire arrived at the annual Shitty Christmas Movie viewing party, he looked around furtively to find Enjolras. After the Polar Plunge and the space cake incident, he wasn't particularly kean for a third humiliating incident.

Luckily Enjolras was chatting away happily with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, so he shouldn't be too difficult to avoid.

Grantaire tried to enjoy _The Princess Switch,_ but about an hour into it, he felt a little antsy, and decided to go on the roof for a quick cigarette. The only way up there was from the fire escape in the master bedroom.

When he made his way up, the last thing he was expecting to see was Enjolras, but there he was. Enjolras also looked surprised.

Grantaire held up his cigarette box as way of explanation.

Enjolras shrugged sheepishly. “I could only take so much of that movie before I needed some fresh air.”

Grantaire clutched his chest. “How could you say that about the modern classic that is _the Princess Switch_?”

“Because it's a romcom glorifying the aristocracy?”

“Fair enough.”

They fell silent, and Grantaire remembered this was the first time since Enjolras got high and sat on his lap that they had been alone. Enjolras seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he awkwardly cleared his throat, cheeks pink.

“I think I've monopolized the roof enough. I'm going to head back inside.”

“Sounds good,” Grantaire said, trying not to sound too relieved.

He had just enough time to light his cigarette and enjoy the first puff when he heard Enjolras say, “The window is locked.”

“ _What?”_

Grantaire shimmied down the fire escape to join Enjolras outside the master bedroom window and saw sure enough, it was firmly closed.

“I swear, I left it open,” Grantaire said.

“It must have slipped shut,” Enjolras said, his teeth already beginning to chatter.

Without thinking, Grantaire unzipped his hoodie and slipped it over Enjolras’s shoulders.

“Furnace, remember?” Grantaire said before silently cursing himself for bringing up anything he said at the Polar Plunge, because he would prefer Enjolras never remember any part of the Polar Plunge for as long as he lived.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said. He even gave Grantaire a small smile before he started to knock on the window. “Hey guys? Guys?”

Grantaire banged on the window as well.

After a few minutes, Enjolras turned to him. “You know, I just wanted to say...about the incident at the Musain, well, I can't remember exactly what I said or did - just flashes, and I wanted to say--”

“Nope. Absolutely not. We are not having that conversation right now. Help!” Grantaire banged even harder on the window. “Help!”

Eventually, they gave up, realizing the movie was on too loud for anyone to hear. Someone would realize they were missing and come looking for them. Hopefully enforce the frost to death.

After about an hour, Jehan and Courfeyrac found them.

“Oh my goodness!” Jehan said, opening the window. “How long were you two out there?”

“A while,” Enjolras said as he was pulled inside.

“We were about to break the window,” Grantaire said.

“Glad it didn't come to that!” Jehan said, looking a little nervous.

“Oh, hey, look!” Courfeyrac pointed the the window frame above where Enjolras and Grantaire were standing. “Mistletoe!”

Enjolras didn't deign to respond as he stormed back into the living room.

 

_December 23_

This was not going well at all. It was time to unveil their Secret Santa presents, and he and Jehan had so far failed. He had no idea what to do on this short of notice.

His phone chimed. It was from Enjolras.

 **Enjolras:** Can you give me a hand in the courtyard?

He frowned. The Musain's courtyard was disused in the winter, so he couldn't imagine why Enjolras was out there, or needed his help, but did feel rather guilty about the series of unfortunate events he'd put Enjolras through over the past few days so he went.

He was not expecting to see Jehan already out there.

“You're not Grantaire,” Jehan said.

“Obviously not.”

“He said he needed to talk to me about something.”

“Enjolras said he needed my help with something.”

Their heads swiveled in unison at the sound of the door slamming shut. On the other side were a smiling Enjolras and Grantaire.

“Hey!” Courfeyrac said as he and Jehan raced over.

Grantaire just waved cheerily as Enjolras dialled Courfeyrac's number.

Courfeyrac picked up and put Enjolras on speaker phone. “What the hell, you guys?”

“You know, it struck us when we were locked out on that fire escape the other night, that we were on the receiving end of some very bad luck.”

“It almost seemed as if someone were intentionally fucking with us,” Grantaire added.

“We racked our brains and realized that the two of you were involved in all the things that had been happening to us. But we know you guys wouldn't intentionally do anything to hurt us.”

“So we asked ourselves, why would two of our dear friends be the cause of several humiliating and miserable experiences?”

“I saw how hot Grantaire was at the Polar Plunge, which made me feel self conscious--”

“Which is ludicrous because I saw Enjolras looking _gorgeous_ and tripped and nearly drowned--”

“And then the next time I saw Grantaire, I was high as a kite and couldn't resist draping myself over him and flirting--”

“Which I of course took for mockery.”

“We should talk about  that,” Enjolras said.

“We will,” Grantaire said, giving him a quick kiss on the neck.

Jehan and Courfeyrac gasped.

“Since when has this been going on?” Jehan yelped.

“Since we were locked out on a fire escape for an hour with nothing to do but talk about our feelings,” Grantaire said.

“But once we talked it through, and understood each other, and realized we both had feelings for each other, we realized that perhaps all these incidents were not coincidences.”

“We did make out before that happened.” Grantaire interjected. “Just for the record.”

“We did, and it was amazing,” Enjolras said.

“We weren't trying to make you miserable. We got you guys for Secret Santa and just wanted you to to be happy,” Jehan said.

“Oh, yeah, we figured _that_ out. I mean, we were out on that fire escape for an hour. We had a while to come up with crazy theories as to why our two dear friends were fucking with us. Eventually, we put it all together.”

Enjolras nodded. “You guys confirmed everything when you were the ones to let us in and immediately point out the mistletoe.”

“I would like to point out that even though things didn't go exactly to plan, it seems like the plan did, kind of work out in the end,” Courfeyrac said.

“Yes, which we appreciate,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, thank you for your gift of meddling.”

“You're welcome?” Jehan said.

For a moment, the four of them smile at each other. Then Enjolras turned to leave.

“Okay. Well, we'll be back in an hour to let you back in..”

“You're not serious.” Courfeyrac said.

Enjolras just smiled and hung up in response.

“R,” Jehan said. He pressed his hand against the window and tried to look his most cute and pathetic.

It had absolutely no effect on Grantaire, who took Enjolras's hand in his. Then they walked away together.

“They are really cute together,” Courfeyrac said. “Even when they're enacting revenge.”

“And like you said, even though things didn't go exactly to plan, we did push them together.”

Courfeyrac held out his hand. “Excellent work, partner.”

Jehan shook it. “The same to you. Merry Christmas, Courfeyrac.”

“Merry Christmas, Jehan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, loves. X


End file.
